Ultimatum
by Assan-Mahariel
Summary: Vohamanah left -ahem, escaped- from heaven years ago, masquerading as a camp counselor named David. The last thing he expected was to be tracked down by a Michael from another world who gives him an ultimatum: either allow himself to be sold to the highest supernatural bidder in order to secure an alliance or undergo Reeducation (m for violence)
1. Ultimatum

(I don't own Camp Camp or Supernatural)

Michael is here. An archangel is standing in the borders of Camp Campbell.

But David was Vohamanah, the angel of optimism. Optimism! The angel of optimism shouldn't be hiding in a closet, broken wings pulled close and his vessel squished in between the cleaning supplies.

Maybe the bleach will overpower the smell of his Grace. David doubted it.

David swallowed and clasped his hand tighter over his mouth, trying to remind himself that angels don't need to breathe. His vessel had yet to get the memo.

David did not scream when Michael yanked the door open. Not at all. Well… maybe a little bit.

The archangel's grip was tight on David's shirtkerchief with the archangel, himself, staring him down with that disapproving scowl that had always terrified him since he was a fledgling.

"Michael!" David chirped, doing his best to appear smaller. "Have you gotten taller? I swear you've gotten taller."

Michael threw him more than he dropped him, shoving him off into a wall. It creaked against the force, but David kept his feet. The kids would be up soon. He needed to make sure Michael was gone before he noticed the mortals.

"Yet another soldier who has abandoned his post," Michael said. "Why shouldn't I kill you now, Vohamanah?"

"Kill? There's not enough of us still alive, Michael."

"I will find Father. He will bless us with more siblings. Better siblings. He will see the world I will bring forth, and he will be proud."

Despite his fear, David couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Proud!? We are nothing to him."

"Of course a failure like you wouldn't understand," Michael said. "Our family is broken beyond repair. To fix such a thing you must start anew and who better to bring about a better world than I, Father's greatest angel?"

"Greatest? Careful, Michael," David said. "You're beginning to sound like Luci. You were not Dad's favorite, and even after all that's happened, Luci is still the golden child that Dad will always favor Luci more."

Michael pretty much punted him, and his back hit the wooden doors on the other side of the room and the wood shattered beneath the combined force of his weight and momentum. David landed on one of his already mangled wings but bit back the cry of pain, silently pleading that the sound of Michael throwing him through the door hadn't awoken the campers.

"How dare you-" Michael was on him again in a heartbeat, kicking him down and digging the heel of his boot into David's chest until he heard the snap of a rib giving in, sneering at the angel frantically clawing at his foot- "how dare you even dare compare me to him!"

"Listen to yourself!" David hissed. "Make dad proud? You can't make that asshole proud! You think dad loved us!? We were just tools for a job he needed done, Michael. Where was he? Huh!?"

"I think someone needs reminded of his job. Again. And I swear, if Naomi can't fix you, I'll do it myself."

David breathed a shaky breath in. Held it, despite the danger of a rib to the lung, the healing of which would weaken his Grace. There was no way in hell he was letting Naomi touch him. Not again. Not ever again.

"You'll have to send me to The Empty," he said. "Because I'd sooner die than allow her to touch me. She's not going to do a damn thing because I'm not gonna let her fucking touch me. Never again, Michael. You can tell her to take Re-education and shove it..."

"I'm sorry?" Michael asked. "You seem to believe you have a choice."

"You know it sticks with me as well as it ever stuck with Castiel."

Michael reached down and grabbed David by the arm before he yanked the angel onto his feet.

"There's not enough left of our family to soften the consequences of killing you," Michael said. "But there's a power vacuum in hell and if I sold you to them, I can convince them that I would be the best choice. I will control both sides of the equation, brother, and I will use them to make the world anew. A better world."

"A camp counselor who knows the area like the back of his hand disappears without a trace? Hunters will flock to this place. Do you really want a bunch of Hunters on your tail, brother?"

Michael's stared the angel down, his already painful grip on David's arm growing tighter.

"I'm sure you'll settle it after Re-education, Vohamanah. Unless, of course, you would rather aide in the alliance effort in another way. There's more than just demons that would kill to have a pet angel."

Michael let him go and turned, walking away from him. What survival instinct the angel had was overpowered by his fear. Naomi wasn't going to touch him. Not again. Not ever again.

David flicked his hand, summoning his angel blade. It solidified, separating from his Grace. David didn't give his brother a chance to put together the angel's Grace suddenly being in his proximity and the chances of death outweighing Re-education in David's mind. In the time it would take for a mortal to blink, David lunged for Michael.

The archangel was faster than he, superior power far greater than the angel's weaker Grace. Michael whipped around to face David and attacked with his own sword, catching David across the face at the same time that the angel drove his blade deep into the archangel's shoulder.

David ignored the pain and pulled his blade free and tried again. He couldn't kill Michael, but there was no way in hell he was going down without kicking and screaming the whole way.

His strike hit empty air, the sound of flapping wings announcing Michael's departure.

"Fuck-" David untied his shirtkerchief from his neck and examined his face with his hands before pressing the shirtkerchief against the wound, the swears still bitter and unfamiliar on his tongue. His face was split with a gash running diagonal across his face from above his right eye, across the bridge of his nose, and ended on the left at the edge of his jawbone- "fucking Michael."

He could see out of his left eye but the amount of blood gushing down his face kept his right eye from being too helpful; David could only pray he hadn't lost it. Heads always bled the worst, so hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as it felt and probably looked, although he was more worried about whether or not there was enough hydrogen peroxide in the first aid cabin to get the blood out of his clothes and shirtkerchief.

It was a painful walk to the first aid cabin; his vision was blurry and his chest hurt. Should it hurt that much? His Grace was even lower than usual, straining to heal his vessel. David wasn't sure what to do for broken ribs. He'd stitched up Hunters, sure, but that didn't make him a doctor.

David was terrified. The strike from the sword hadn't killed him but Michael would be back.

Without giving himself the chance to think too much about it, David called the only number saved on speeddial.

"Vohamanah?" A familiar voice called out after only the first ring.

"Castiel," David said. "I need your help. And I have information on Michael."


	2. Standing Ground

The kids couldn't see him. He couldn't let them see him. He didn't want Gwen to see him, either. Nobody. He was battered and bruised and bleeding and glowing. The Grace seeping free from the gash across his face cast a blue glow, and it was most certainly something he would not allow to shatter the veil of the reality the humans here still believed in.

David could never do that to them. Until he heard the engine of the Winchester car, he was going to hide- er, hold out- in the medical cabin.

He tried to clean off the blood but it was coming out quicker than he could clean it off. Finally, he gave up and let his blood mix with his tears as he struggled to muffle his terrified sobs with his hands as he sank down against the wall.

The mortals proved to have slept through the encounter, thankfully, as his phone showed that an hour had passed by the time he heard people beginning to move about outside and then Gwen texted him ten minutes after that.

'David istg where the fuck r u?'

He tried to type back, but his single working eye was too blurred from tears to allow itself to be used efficiently and David gave up pretty quickly. There was an awful stinging an inch below his left eye, but thankfully it had cut deeper above his eyebrow and across the bridge of his nose and skimmed the eye enough to leave it working. Truthfully, David barely managed to dodge losing an eye. If the right was alright, at least. The text from Gwen was soon followed by more texts but he didn't bother looking at them.

David let his head drop to rest against his chest, clutching the once yellow shirt pressed against his face. By this point it was doused in red and flecked with specks of blue.

He let himself sink deeper into his vessel but was quickly roused by the sound of the jiggling of the doorknob. David stretched out a wing to press against the door; if someone managed to unlock it, they still wouldn't be able to open it.

"David?"

The door rattled.

"David, I know you're in there!"

Dang it. Of course she did, he'd probably left a trail of blood on his stumble over.

"David, open this door!" Gwen shouted.

The guilt was almost as painful as- okay, maybe the physical pain was worse, but that didn't mean that the guilt wasn't painful as well. David did his best to muffle his sobs, moving one of his hands off of the shirtkerchief to press against his mouth. The taste of his own blood was warm against his tongue, made flavored with the bittersweet burn of his own Grace on his vessel's tongue, the molecules of the blood mixing with the leaking Grace.

He could hear them struggling with the nearest window beside the door. From where he'd wedged himself earlier, they shouldn't be able to see him. The blood coating the floor could not be helped. David should have covered the windows up while everyone was still asleep.

"David! Open the damn door you fucking moron!"

And there was Max.

Over the pounding on the door, David heard the sound of an engine. The Winchester Impala. Last time he'd seen it was a couple years back when he had just been Re-Educated and had been on the side of the angels. He'd be dead if Castiel hadn't hesitated in striking him down after David hesitated to kill him.

The Winchesters were here. He was going to be okay.

The pounding and yelling soon ceased but David couldn't make out what was being said. After a moment, there came a knock at the door.

"Vohamanah?" Castiel's voice called. "It's Castiel. Can I come in?"

David moved his wing away from the door. It had already been picked so it opened when Castiel turned the handle.

"Wait-" Castiel's voice cut in- "stay here. All of you. Too many people might make him freak out. Jack, come with me."

Castiel was a blurry figure that grew larger as it neared and crouched down before David. Gentle hands reached out and took the shirtkerchief from David's hands.

"Jack, get some water."

"Bucket in the bottom cupboard," David mumbled out.

"Got it."

"Vohamanah? I'm going to pull this off, okay?"

David gave the other angel a nod.

What clots had managed to form clung to the fabric for a moment before Castiel had it pulled it away. Castiel let out a hiss of sympathy.

"Can you see me?"

"Bit blurry," David said. "Think that's just swelling and blood, though."

David could hear but not see Castiel dipping something into water before the feeling of cloth brushed against his skin.

"This is going to need sewn up. Get Dean, he's better at it than I am," Castiel said. "Can you feel it, Vohamanah?"

"It hurts."

"Looks like it does. These cuts and bruises should heal up fine; it's the ones left from Michael's blade that has me worried."

David heard someone let out a whistle a couple moments before someone kneeled down on his other side and lifted his head up to get a better look at the wound. He caught a hint of human soul as whoever it was (this supposed Dean most likely, which meant THE Dean Winchester was touching his face) touched his skin.

"So this is Vohamanah?"

"David," David corrected. "I prefer David."

"Gotta say, didn't expect one of you feathered assholes to be down here like they're gonna start up a little bible camp and reenact 'Nudist Colony of the Dead.'"

"Bible camp is actually only one of the many camps that Camp Campbell offers."

"Is there a Hunter Camp?" Jack asked.

"We could make one!" David said, only to quiet down with a muttered 'ow' after the act of smiling pulled at where it had cut into his cheek.

"Alright, you won't feel this, right?"

David stilled, not moving as the human got to work.

"Jack and Cas, go distract the campers and counselor before they get restless and barge in."

The two echoed agreement and left, leaving David alone with the Winchester. Not knowing what to say and deciding that was probably best not to say anything at all, David stayed quiet while Dean worked.

It took him about half an hour to finish the stitches as best as someone with field experience but no medical training could. The pain was a bit better, especially as he wasn't actually human, and his Grace wasn't actively leaking out of him.

David sat still a couple moments longer while the Hunter washed the blood off of his body. Once that was done, David's eyes seemed to decide that seeing properly was, in fact, something they were willing to do.

"Thank you," David said. "I didn't want the kids or Gwen to see me like this. Especially considering the Grace."

"Happy to help," Dean said. "You said you have information on what Michael's up to, right? It's a good trade off. We scratch your back, you scratch ours. Plus Cas said you're one of the good ones."

David smiled, a small one this time so as to not pull the stitches.

"Yes," David said. "I'd like to have been able to make myself more presentable and maybe waited until talking doesn't hurt, but I need to ensure that I tell you what I can while I can."

David took the bucket of water and dumped the bloody water in the sink.

"Michael came to me saying he's planning on making a new world-" David searched through the cupboards and sighed as he remembered, then, that Neil had dumped it all onto a spider he found in his tent- "and that what was already here was… not good enough. He's building an army of monsters and either Reeducating our universes angels or selling them off to the highest bidder in order to seal an alliance."

Dean shook his head at that.

"And here I spent most of my life before Heaven's bullshit thinking my family was fucked up," Dean said. "Anything else?"

"He'll be coming back for me, of course," David said. "I have a bad track record almost as long as Castiel's when it comes to Reeducation, so he's probably considering selling me off."

"Got a plan, yet? Cas said you've warded yourself, and he knows you're here. Get the hell out of dodge and lay low."

"No-" David shook his head and turned his entire focus onto the mortal- "these children are my responsibility and Camp Campbell is more of a home to me than Heaven ever was. I was a fledgling when Father left. Unlike the others, I never knew anything but Michael's tyranny. This new Michael seems even worse and I won't give him the chance to hurt the people I care about."

It probably would have been a cool speech, had David not gone and ruined it by snapping his fingers and cleaning the blood from his clothes with already drained Grace. The mortal managed to catch him before he fell and slipped David's arm around his neck so that he could support him.

"Look, you've got heart, alright? But you don't seem to know what sort of thing you're dealing with here."

"Which is?"

"An asshole. Whose to say he's not going to ruin this place anyways just for the hell of it?"

"I believe that if I try leaving and I take these mortals with me, it might count as kidnapping."

"Touché. Right now, I think you need to lay down. You lost a lot of blood, which probably wouldn't matter if you hadn't lost a lot of Grace and then had the bright idea to use said Grace."

"This.. this shirt belonged to a friend," David said, reaching up to touch the shirtkerchief around his neck. "Plus one of the Campers threw all my other clothes in the lake and they're still being washed."

Dean supported him out the door and the campers quickly made themselves known by instantly all chattering over each other. Max silenced them all with an angry 'shut the fuck up!' and turned his focus onto David.

All the irritation left his expression replaced with that wide-eyed expression of shock, but what little Grace that David had left could sense Max's relief that David was still breathing.

"Did… is Daniel back?"

"No," David said. "No, Max, everything's fine. Everything… everything is fine."

"Don't fucking lie to me, campman."

"One of my brothers showed up to talk to me, is all, kiddo-" David mussed up Max's hair as Dean led him past, and the kid grumbled as he tried to fix it- "I'm okay. Everything's okay."

"Your brother did that?" Harrison spoke up.

"Do you need a health potion?" Nerris asked.

"I can stab your brother for you," Nurf added, holding up a knife, only for Gwen to finally get over her shock at seeing David's state and swoop in to take the knife from Nurf.

"I thought we confiscated all your knives, your little shit!" Gwen said. "If anybody's stabbing this brother, it's going to be me!"

"Thanks, Gwen," David said. "But Michael isn't someone to mess around with."

She stepped forward, frowning as she reached out and stopped her hand just before she could touch the stitches.

"Has… has he hurt you like this, before?"

David cleared his throat and looked to Dean before motioning towards the counselors cabin. "I stay over there."

The Hunter maneuvered around the little kids that had swarmed them, moving towards the cabin even as said kids followed suit like a swarm of bees after something that had disturbed its nest.

David directed Dean towards his bed and the Hunter helped him to it. David went limp once he reached it; it wasn't often that he felt exhausted like this, but he hated it every time it happened. He didn't stir until Castiel pulled up a chair beside his bed.

"Perhaps you should come with us to the Bunker. Michael may not think to look for you there."

"I already talked with Dean about leaving Camp Campbell. I can't, Castiel. These kids are depending on me. On Gwen and I. And I won't leave them to endure Michael's anger if he comes back and finds me gone."

"What did Michael say to you?"

David held out his hand and Castiel took it, silent as David relayed everything through what could best be compared to a private channel on angel radio.

"Rest, brother," Castiel said. "I will speak with Dean. Perhaps we can think of something that will help your situation."

David leaned his head against his pillow and closed his eyes, letting himself sink deeper into his vessel to recuperate.

It was the closest an angel could get to sleep.


End file.
